


crybaby

by dude_dude_dude



Category: South Park RPF
Genre: Crying During Sex, Id Fic, M/M, Men Crying, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24487900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dude_dude_dude/pseuds/dude_dude_dude
Summary: Trey threw an arm over his face, hiding in the crook of his elbow. He rasped an “I’m fine” from under his arm that Matt didn’t believe for a second. Wiping his hand down his face as though trying to wipe his embarrassment away, Trey replaced it with the most pathetic, half-assed smile Matt had ever seen: lips wobbling, lashes clumped with tears, cheeks twitching from the effort.Awful. Fucking awful.
Relationships: Trey Parker/Matt Stone
Comments: 16
Kudos: 23





	crybaby

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I just really wanted to write about Trey crying while he had Matt's dick in his ass, and that's pretty much all this PWP accomplishes. 
> 
> Is Trey being an overemotional mess my kink? Yes. Yes, it is.

After a studio stint that felt like six months crammed into six days, nothing reminded Matt he was human more than being in Trey’s bed. That blessed day between an episode wrapping and the next one starting hit a mental reset button. Trey would shower, Matt would eat something that didn’t come out a paper bag, and they’d fuck like it was a reward for doing their damn jobs. 

This reset day was sorely needed. The last week had been one problem after another, that ever-present threat of _Will this be the first time we don’t deliver on time?_ coming so ridiculously fucking close that Matt had drafted an email telling the network they’d come up empty. Trey almost passed out from stress near the end, his eyes glazing over like he’d dropped a tab of acid the size of a billboard, and Matt remembered thinking that South Park wasn’t worth him having that heart attack he was long overdue for. 

Despite Trey collapsing the moment they got back and sleeping like the proverbial log, he still looked tired as shit the next morning. Hair wet, waist wrapped in a towel, and week-old beard shaved clean, he managed to find the energy to pull Matt on top of him and suck his lips like they were coated in McDonald’s dipping sauce. 

Screw their tiredness; they weren’t about to break their tradition of a weekly thank-god-that’s-over fuck. 

Easing the towel apart and sliding a hand between Trey’s shower-damp thighs, Matt would’ve done anything Trey wanted. All Trey had to do was ask, though he rarely did, not with words anyway. Matt had learned to read Trey’s body language, his groans and whimpers, and occasionally, the indications that he didn’t really have a clue what he wanted. Matt always knew though, even if Trey didn’t. 

This morning, Trey was so subdued Matt thought he might fall asleep while he fingered him, mouthing at his cheek while Trey breathed calmly, eyes closed, hand opening and closing weakly on the pillow beside his head. 

“Ready?” Matt whispered, as if he didn’t know. He could’ve added a third finger if he wanted, but Trey had never been hot on that—he’d forgo this first step altogether if Matt didn’t insist. 

“Yeah,” Trey breathed, barely audible. So, not asleep. 

Breathy silence melted into Trey’s familiar whimpers as Matt slid inside, kneading his thumbs into Trey’s thighs as he held them apart. And Christ, the _relief_ , the weight of the week vanishing as he pushed Trey open, watching his dick sliding right in to the hilt. 

Trey’s face was the prettiest picture when he was full of dick—mouth open, lids heavy, a flush creeping down his neck. He claimed he was shy about Matt’s staring, but in that same breath he’d get off on being the centre of his attention, his entire world. Matt stared now, biting his lip as Trey winced through the initial discomfort, his mouth pursing as a moan rumbled through his chest. 

Letting his weight go, Matt stroked strands of wet hair from Trey’s forehead before bracketing his forearms either side of his face. The tension in Trey’s body was palpable. Matt kissed his lips, hoping to coax them back open with a swipe of tongue, but they stayed tight together. Kissing down his freshly soft jaw, he rocked his hips gently, trying to get Trey to relax.

“Fuck,” Trey ground out, hissing through his teeth. His fingers dug into Matt’s back, clinging hard. 

Matt pushed himself up on his arms, ready to ask if Trey needed more lube or wanted to stop or whatever, when a tear slid down Trey’s temple into his hair.

“You okay, man?” 

Trey threw an arm over his face, hiding in the crook of his elbow. He rasped an “I’m fine” from under his arm that Matt didn’t believe for a second. Wiping his hand down his face as though trying to wipe his embarrassment away, Trey replaced it with the most pathetic, half-assed smile Matt had ever seen: lips wobbling, lashes clumped with tears, cheeks twitching from the effort.

Awful. Fucking awful.

It was time to make a decision. One: untangle himself from Trey and draw attention to whatever was troubling him, or two: continue like everything was normal, distracting him with their usual fucking that had never involved Trey crying before. All it took was Trey’s pleading gaze for Matt to know.

Holding Trey’s hips, Matt pulled out almost all the way. Driving back in pushed more tears from Trey’s eyes, along with the kind of moan that usually accompanied all his muscles going slack, though it didn’t usually sound so pained, or so much like a sob, and Trey was still tense as hell. 

“I’m not hurting you?” Matt asked in a whisper, pressing a worried kiss beneath Trey’s earlobe. 

Trey hid his face behind his hand and shook his head. When he inhaled, his chest shook like he was trying to hold something back, something massive, swallow it down and pretend it didn’t exist. 

It’d been a long week. A fucking bitch of a week. Trey had looked close to breaking down for the past three days. The urge to let it all go was probably as exhausting for him as it was for Matt having to watch him keep it all locked inside.

Matt shushed him, slipping a hand beneath Trey’s head and massaging his scalp while maintaining the slow, persistent slide of his dick. “Let it out,” he whispered, breathing hot against his temple.

Still clinging to him, Trey let out a strangled, “Oh, god!,” as he ground his head back into Matt’s hand. He sucked in another breath, exhaling with an ugly, stammered sob, and more tears came with it. 

Matt held him while he cried, pecking light kisses across his cheek. All he could think to say when his dick was buried inside him was, “It’s all right,” and, “It’s okay,” but that seemed to do the trick of calming Trey down. It calmed him enough that he grabbed Matt’s ass and pulled him closer, encouraging him right back with a wordless plea for more of his dick despite his current state. 

It felt kind of invasive to be inside Trey while he was distressed, but Matt was a master of giving Trey what he wanted no matter how bizarre it seemed at the time. A slow, steady roll of his hips had Trey moaning breathily and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. A deep thrust forced another sob from his throat that quickly turned to less-restrained crying. 

“That’s it,” Matt said, sweeping Trey’s hair from his eyes. “That’s better.” He thrust again, hips thudding between Trey’s legs hard enough that the headboard smacked against the wall. 

Trey threw his arm over his face again, cries muffling into his skin. Matt peeled that arm away. The dark bags under Trey’s eyes glistened with tears, and Matt had to fight the sudden urge to stop and cradle him. He wiped a stray tear with his thumb instead, then thrust deep. Trey screwed his eyes shut and sighed through his tears, relaxing, his legs falling open against the sheets, swaying with the movements of Matt’s hips. 

“Need a good fuck, huh?” Matt asked, thumbing Trey’s nipple and savouring his gasped, tearful shudder. 

“Yeah,” Trey blubbed, voice strained, giving up on concealing his emotion. “Yeah . . .”

As Matt slammed in deep, Trey cried harder. He crushed his face into Matt’s chest as he took it like a champ, his sobs forced out with the breath from his lungs. Matt rarely fucked him this hard, but Trey appeared to want and need it.

It was weird how quickly Matt overcame his initial concern for Trey’s mental state, then got used to it, then liked it. There was something intimate about Trey letting him see him like this, at his most vulnerable, doing nothing to disguise it. He trusted Matt to read him, know when to stop or, more importantly, when not to.

“I’m sorry,” Trey whined suddenly, pawing at Matt’s waist how he did when he wanted him to slow down. Matt used the moment for a breather. 

“It’s fine,” Matt soothed, not really sure what Trey was apologising for. He stroked Trey’s face with lazy fingertips as he panted against his neck, wondering if he could make him come when he was in one of these rollercoaster moods, and how long this might last.

Face turning into the pillow, Trey mumbled, “Must be such a turn-off . . .” He was much more relaxed now, but still quietly crying. It made him look innocent, a little lost, and at least ten years younger.

“Nah.” Matt shook his head reassuringly, turning Trey’s face back to his. “It’s uh, kinda hot actually.” 

“Really?” Trey stiffened, and Matt wondered if he’d been incredibly insensitive. He didn’t know for sure that Trey was simply overworked and needed to get it out of his system. There could’ve been something else bothering him, and Matt had only gone and confessed to finding his suffering attractive. The small smile that flashed across Trey’s lips made him think differently. 

“Yeah,” Matt said, kissing Trey and getting a response this time. “A crybaby who loves getting his ass pounded . . . what’s not to like?” 

Trey sniffed a laugh, rolling his head back into the pillow as he scraped his fingernails down Matt’s scalp. Matt bucked his hips, spurred into moving again, because his scalp was his weak spot and Trey knew it, knew how and where to touch to have his balls pulling tight and his eyes rolling back in his skull. 

Where he’d been a coiled spring before, Trey’s muscles were liquid now. Their lips met as Trey pulled him closer by his hair, noses bumping, Matt’s tongue dipping inside tentatively. It could barely be called a kiss, Trey’s mouth slack, his panted breaths matching the pace of Matt’s hips. Trey would be out like a light after this, deep in one of his post-fuck comas, sprawled across the bed as naked as the day he was born and without a care for how indecent he looked. 

“I’m beat,” Matt whispered, slumping against Trey’s chest. A half-truth. He was as exhausted as Trey, and he was the one doing most of the work here—not to mention most of Trey’s emotional heavy lifting—but he’d never deny him the dregs of his energy if it meant leaving him unsatisfied. He just wanted to see Trey squirm. 

“No,” Trey said, almost sulkily, squeezing Matt’s shoulder in a pathetically limp grip. 

“No what?”

Trey didn’t dignify that with an answer. He slid his hands into Matt’s curls again, kneading and pulling, trying anything to get what he wanted. Matt purred, dick twitching at the sensations Trey’s fingers sent prickling down his back. That was all he wanted: a little reminder that, despite everything, Trey wasn’t completely selfish. 

“That’s nice,” Matt hummed, back arching into Trey’s touch as his hand eased down over his shoulder blade light enough to tickle. 

“Fuck me,” Trey demanded, grabbing Matt’s ass, almost entirely his old self again.

He held on tight then, as Matt burned through the last of his energy in a burst of perfectly angled thrusts that had Trey coming over his stomach in a minute, moaning with a throat hoarse from crying, that blissed-out look of “thank _fuck_ ” on his face that Matt had grown to adore, anticipate, and miss when it’d been a while. 

Matt pulled out, giving Trey a moment to recover before he finished himself off with his hand, shooting over the parts of Trey’s stomach that Trey's load had missed. It didn’t matter if he complained about it, because Matt would be the one cleaning him up. That would never change. 

With Trey fighting sleep, giggling quietly as the towel Matt wished he had the energy to put straight in the wash made him somewhat presentable, Matt asked if he was okay. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Matt sat up and gave him a look. “The crying?”

He’d never seen Trey’s cheeks turn pink so fast. “Yeah, uh . . . That was . . .” He abandoned that thread when Matt pressed his face into the crook of his shoulder. “I’m just tired, man.” 

“’Kay,” Matt said. Hopefully he was speaking to truthful Trey right now and not the Trey who buried his feelings until they burst out in something more like a mental breakdown than a random sobbing session. 

But he didn’t have the energy to worry about all that. If Trey needed propping up, he’d be there. Right now, they both needed as much sleep as they could cram into one day, and if Trey’s soft snores were anything to go by, he was already well ahead of him.


End file.
